


The Pegasus Affair

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Anti Ward, Drinking, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Hotels, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Older Man/Younger Woman, Orphans, Phil damseling, Romance, Secret Identity, Soulmates, Undercover, anti Fitz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 19:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14064444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: AU based on elements of all AOS season, but uses Season 1 characters.  Daisy agrees to help Trip pull off a wedding for a famous tech couple, but she has her own agenda and meets Coulson, the property manager for the hotel Pegasus, who turns her life upside down.





	The Pegasus Affair

"I don't care how it happens. Just do it, and make sure that everything is perfect."

The phone hangs up before he can even agree, but he knows that it doesn't matter.

They have a contract.

A very carefully constructed contract that he didn't write, and after reading it over, there were a few items in it that he damn well wouldn't have agreed to.

"Mini sandwiches with a hint of pesto aioli," he says aloud, scrolling through the lengthy document on his pad, then sitting back in the chair. "How much longer is it going to take?" he asks genially, looking up to the woman sitting behind his desk working on the computer.

She stops tapping away on her laptop and stares back at him with the polite smile of someone who has just been interrupted mid-thought. "Probably as long as it will take for you to figure out what a hint of pesto aioli means?"

He slouches down into the chair and groans, because he knew this was going to be a lot of work. That's not the problem.

When he decided to take back his clients, after Garrett had died under mysterious circumstances -the mob was mentioned more than once- and Ward had decided to take half of their contracts with him to spin off his own business, he also got all of the wedding events he didn't bring to the table.

"Fitz-Simmons," he says out loud, again. "Sounds like a PR firm." All of their corporate clients, the big box ones, most of the law firms -and mostly Republicans- left with Ward.

So he doesn't exactly regret it. Hell no.

But he's trying to keep all of the clients that he brought to the table and still keep his good reputation. It's about honoring one's agreements.

That, and, he needs a win right now. Really bad.

"Normally I would agree with you," she tells him, typing away as she puts her face too close to the screen. "But those names together means that famous bio-engineering couple?" She pauses to wait for the reaction, and smiles. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"You said you do IT. That's all, right?" he says with his own smile, but narrows his eyes. Ward has already tried to sabotage him a few times, he wouldn't put it past him. "Yeah, you're right."

"Mr. Triplett," she says, fluttering her eyes at him. "Do you say that to all the IT girls?"

"IT and fast was all I asked for," he reminds her, standing up from the chair. "Because if I lost their wedding invite list, this guy will accuse me of being a philistine again."

"Guilt by association, huh?" she sighs as she works. "That sucks."

"Girl, I'm not worried about that. It's what happens if I don't get this dude's list of demands right. He's got an army of lawyers and I have a signed contract."

She pauses for a moment, and stares up at him thoughtfully. "I sometimes do....hacking on the side," she confesses.

He frowns slightly, because, he didn't expect her to just lay it out for him like that. She looks like she's in her late 20s, and he's the last one to judge a book by its cover, but something tells him, she's about to-

"You have some information that I wanted," she admits. "Had, by the looks of it," she says with a sympathetic shrug. "But, maybe I can figure out where it went? And get your invite list at the same time."

"I'll throw in something extra if you can make it hurt," he tells her.

“Deal,” she tells him, then goes back to typing furiously.

  
###

  
“She’s a security risk.”

May’s finger touches the image on the piece of paper, of the young woman with the awkward smile on the printed page.

“Trip said she’s good, so, she’s good," he replies, while they wait for the freight elevator, like that's the end of the discussion.

“Why do I even work here?!” she answers, because the discussion isn't quite over.

“Because I need you when things get sticky,” he reminds her, taking the paperwork and reading it more closely. They've worked together off and on for awhile now, and May is the best at what she does, which lets him be good at what he does. “This resume looks fine.”

“She's too fine, that’s the problem,” she says, taking it out of his hand as they get into the elevator. “And she doesn't turn up on social media, or anywhere else. Fury doesn’t pay me to-“

“I know,” he answers her with a smirk, fixing the button in his neat suit, then pushing the elevator button to go up. “He pays both of us. So, what aren’t you telling me?”

"This event is already drawing too much press attention. And did you look at the contract? I mean, these people are the textbook definition of risk management."

"And Grant Ward is involved," he adds, as she stabs him with a stare, shoving the papers back at him.

They pause for a moment as some other hotel staff get on the elevator with them and they move to the back.

"Was involved," she reminds him with a whisper. "Until I found out what he was really into, and you and Fury can thank me for that."

"Eternally grateful," he says, sincerely, then lowering his voice. "He's still involved. That's why we're helping."

She stands there with her lips pursed, as the staff in front of them leads the way out of the elevator.

"What do you mean he's still involved?" she asks in a very even but intense tone, when everyone else it out of earshot.

"He's trying to sabotage the wedding, of course," he tells her with a shrug of his shoulders. "Would you expect anything less?"

May draws back for a moment, in silent contemplation, weighing her desire for revenge against her job.

"I want to meet the girl," May says, offering the olive branch, as they walk down the hall together. "My only condition."

"So do I," he agrees. "How is Andrew doing?"

"Still recovering," she tells him, with a shake of her head. "The accident he had while we were in Hawaii, it just feels...off."

"You can't blame yourself for that, May," he says, as her eyes go soft and sad for a moment. "Don't tell me you're starting to believe in conspiracy theories."

"I leave that to you, Phil," she tells him, with an almost smile, as her phone rings and she heads in the opposite direction to talk into it, her tone softening.

He can tell it's Andrew. And unlike May, he's very sure Andrew's accident wasn't one at all.

  
###

  
Here’s the thing. She’s met him before.

She was snooping around, digging, and he looked like an easy target. Just one of those faces that makes you want to trust them, instantly, and now she might be regretting it.

The head of security she knew to avoid right away. But this guy, he seemed so nice and now she’s sitting in his manager’s office and thinking about how she might need to start adopting a disguise if she wants to keep doing this.

He doesn't look like he's ever had to live in a van, so this all seems pretty bullshit to her. At least that's what she tells herself.

“Daisy,” he says, like they’re already familiar. “Can I call you that, or do you prefer Ms. Johnson?”

“Only if I can call you Phil,” she fake smiles back at him. She tries to keep smiling as he gets an amused expression and she wonders if he’s feeling sorry for her already, for not covering her tracks the way you're supposed to when you're dealing with people like this.

"I'm sure you're here for a good reason, because you're friends with Trip. But, if there's anything you'd like to share with me now-"

"Maybe you could give me an example of what you're looking for? So I can do the opposite of that?"

He smiles and makes his way around the desk to sit in the chair behind it.

"You've done your homework, so, I'm sure you know who owns the property I manage. And, you should also know that he's working overtime to expose the kind of people-"

"I know," she interrupts. "That's why I'm here. My mother was a big union supporter. Right up until the day she died."

That seems to throw him off, but not in the way it usually works. He actually has an emotional reaction to it, instead of talking about unions like she's attacked him personally. That he might actually believe she has her own story.

"I'm sorry," he manages to say to her, and she starts to wonder if he's actually more than just nice. The softness in his voice lingers in the room even though he starts to flip through the papers on his desk.

She notices that one of his hands is less mobile, and she wonders if it's actually a prosthesis, when he picks up a pen with the other hand and signs the paper.

“Here,” he says, reaching into one of the desk drawers, then standing up to hand something to her.

It’s a her security clearance card, giving her access to the property.

She takes it from him, and runs her fingers over it, still a little unbelieving.

“So, does this mean I have access to everything?” she says, just seeing how far she can push.

When she looks up at him he has that amused expression, but she thinks she knows what it means now.

“Not quite everything,” he says with a raise of his eyebrows. Is he flirting with her? “But, if you need more, just ask.”

She watches him get up and start to walk out of his office and she turns in the chair to catch him before he's gone.

“You mean, ask you, right?” she calls after him.

He gives her a glance that tells her she’ll be taking a risk if she asks anyone else.

And she also confirms her belief from the first time they met.

He has a really nice ass.

  
###

  
"Ward is staying there?!" Trip asks her, as they meet at the coffee shop a few blocks away from the hotel.

She's actually trying now, wearing her aviators and baseball cap and trying to look undercover-ish.

"Yeah, he checked in yesterday. He's after something. More information, I bet. Who is he selling it to?"

"Probably Fury's competitors," Trip nods, after thinking it over, then takes a sip of his coffee. "He could make  
a lot of money and still keep his clientele? And throw me under the bus."

"You guys are really terrible at this, you know that, right?"

Trip tries not to spit coffee all over himself, when he sees Coulson staring with a pitying look at both of them while he holds his coffee in his right hand.

"Let me guess, black?" she asks him, standing up a little in her seat to check

"There is no other kind," he tells her, glancing briefly at her double latte and she rolls her eyes and sits back down in the chair. "Maybe go further than a block away next time?"

"Phil," Trip starts to plead. "You know I need someone on the inside while I put this together, someone Ward won't know."

"I was thinking Daisy would be perfect," Coulson says with a smile, as Trip raises his eyebrows at her at the way Coulson has said her name.

"You know, my lifestyle choices, and your lifestyle hotel, do not exactly line up," she tells him, taking a drink of her latte and then licking the foam off her top lip.

"I have no idea about your lifestyle, but I know all about how to create one," he tells her, like he's up for a challenge. "At least the appearance of one."

"Wait," Trip says, pointing his finger at Daisy, then at Coulson. "This isn't your coffee shop."

"No, it's not," he admits, after being put on the spot for a moment, avoiding Daisy's pointed stare, as her mouth opens, and managing to frown a little at Trip for giving him away.

"Did you follow me here?" she asks him, trying to hide her laugh at his obvious embarrassment.

"I saw you hanging around in the alley a block from the hotel," he says, a little cockily. "Acting suspicious, and...yes. I followed you."

She nods at him slowly and sets her hands in her lap, avoiding his gaze and the subject further.

"I'm good if you're good," Trip says to Daisy. "Means you get to stay at the Pegasus. The rooms are nice. I heard Level 7 is the best."

"There's a Level 8," Coulson points out.

"Level 8 it is," she tells him with a smirk. "Okay, so when do we get started?"

"After coffee," Coulson tells her, taking a sip from his cup.

 

###

 

"Fitz, c'mon, we're friends," he says into his cellphone, looking outside the window of his hotel room down to the street.

There's Coulson again, with someone younger, he watches as he guides her into the building. Pretty, and that's about it. Probably one of the hotel's new maids since all that guy does is live and breathe for Fury.

"What if I told you I could guarantee that your wedding would go off without a hitch," he cuts in. "Doesn't Jemma deserve the best?"

"She's hooked," Fitz whines over the other end of the phone. "Trip's got her sold on this china pattern that completes her 'Seaside cottage look', whatever that means."

"I can get you the same pattern," he answers flatly in reply. "At a discount."

"But she made him go through forty patterns, and she thinks that it's darling he hasn't slept for a week because of our wedding. Besides, there's a contract, and this wedding is already costing me too much. I could've designed an entirely virtual one that would've been absolutely perfect."

"Trip has a way with the ladies," Ward suggests to him, hoping he plants a seed as he looks through the data running through the encryption program he loaded. Thankfully he doesn't have to read this stuff himself. God, code is boring.

"What kind of way?" the other man replies after a moment.

"It's just that we worked closely, and there were times when the boss had to take him off a project for getting too close to it, if you know what I mean."

It doesn't need to be true, it just needs to be something Fitz will believe. Easy.

The only reason that contract got away from him is that he dumped the wedding book on Trip, and took all the corporate clients and most of the staff. He should've been more careful, though. Should've played his part a little longer. Once he got the Fitz-Simmons wedding list and saw who was attending, that changed everything.

Not that it matters, he'll eventually have them all in the end. Even John couldn't get in the way of that once he went off the deep end.

"He better not get close to my project!" Fitz yells into the phone, making Ward pull the receiver away from his ear. "Do you know how hard I had to work to get to this point after all these years working side by side? I finally graduated from nice guy, I'm not going back."

"I had no idea," Ward replies, getting bored at the thought of having to hear about it. "Look, just keep me in mind, in case anything goes south."

"I will," Fitz says, sighing. "We have a lot of important guests, and Shield Property Management-"

"-has the best security in the industry," Ward finishes for him. "Trust me, I know."

The trick is, pulling off suddenly saving the day with the guest list just in time. Even though he's already in the process of selling the data he stole from Trip off to the highest bidder. The most important people in the tech and bio industries, all of their home addresses and personal contact information.

Everyone has their price.

  
###

  
"And this," he tells her, swinging open the double doors to reveal a walk-in area, "Is your closet."

She looks at him with a puzzled expression and then reaches towards one of the shirts hanging nearest her and takes it off the bar and looks at the size.

"You got my size right," she says, and then looks down at the price tag attached to it. "That, is not right. Is it?"

"I have someone who owes me favors, don't worry about it," he tells her, watching her put it back and then look at a dark green silk jumpsuit.

"You, have really amazing taste, but no wedding ring," she says to him as she bends to unzip one of her boots. "Who is the lucky guy? Or girl? What's the story there?"

He sighs at her, like he isn't sure he wants to share it, until she almost loses her balance and he bends down and offers her his shoulder to use as a prop.

"I had an accident a few years ago," he starts. "I almost died, and Fury paid all of my medical bills when the insurance company denied the claim. I owe him. He takes care of people and I try to do the same. His family built this business, you know."

She thinks the guy must be a workaholic for sure, but there's got to be more to it than that.

"Yeah, his grandfather used to be a door guy at one of the other hotels," she says, leaning over him to grab an ankle boot off the shelf. "And then he got into the security side of it when the mob moved in."

"The kind of person that I've always looked up to," Coulson adds. "Hired me right out of high school," he tells her, taking over and lacing the front of the boot up for her. "It let me take care of my mom. He's never compromised, and that's saying a lot."

"Yeah, I know all those disgusting developers bought up real estate in the poor parts of town in the 80s. My mom helped to organize against that stuff, and my dad opened a free clinic, but none of it stopped them."

"My parents are gone, too," he says to her, as he gets to his feet, staring at her with sad eyes, and it's that look again, some kind of connection that makes it impossible for her to turn away from him.

"I'm sorry. And, thanks," she says to him with a shy smile. "For trusting me. With no strings attached."

He looks so incredibly pleased for a moment, she's not sure what to do with herself, only that it makes her face feel hot and they both decide to find something else to stare at for the moment.

"Where am I supposed to end up wearing this?" she asks, reaching her hand out for something that looks like an evening gown, then losing her balance as she tumbles into him and he holds on.

"You forgot to put on the other shoe," he manages to say, slowly, his eyes getting wider, and they're bluer than she thought they were. When did she think about that?

"That's one way to practice."

They both startle to see May standing there, a file in her hand, as they help each other upright and separate.

"Ward's going to see you coming from a mile away," she tells her, following her with her eyes as Daisy takes the other boot Phil hands to her and goes to sit on the edge of the bed to put it on.

"Level 8," she mutters, looking around the suite. "Really, Phil?"

  
###

  
The morning light hits her as the shades automatically raise, programmed that way. She keeps forgetting to change that.

It's nothing to pick up the phone and order up breakfast, but it seems so strange to do it with no one here to share it with.

Her last relationship hadn't been with the kind of person that could follow where she needed to go. It's been lonely, and being around people again, and mostly Phil if she's honest with herself, has her wondering what else she's been missing out on.

Things she told herself she could live without or had maybe even forgotten that she needed.

She'll have to give it to May, she's thorough. Four days of pushing her almost enough to keep her focus laser-sharp, distracting her from thinking about too much.

And it's been nothing from morning until late nights rehearsing for this, with Coulson stopping in to bring her meals, and double lattes and take May her tea.

She wishes she could have coffee with Coulson right now, just him, and talk. Tell him everything. She stares at the phone on the nightstands and she hesitates, but reaches for it and dials his office.

Coulson is a lot older than her, but it's just one of those things she doesn't even think about when she's with him. In a way, it's as if she's always known him. It sounds ridiculous to even think that like. She's never been that close to anyone in her entire life.

But, if she's going to jump headlong into this and finally gets some answers, she wants to have someone to share it with.

"Surprise me," she says with a smile, then hangs up.

His knock appears after a few minutes, the one hand sounding distinctly different, because it's a prosthetic, and she tells him to come, and puts away her phone, as he opens the door and pushes the wheeled tray inside.

Of course he's already dressed for the day and like he's never met a wrinkle. He stops for a moment and looks at her sitting on the bed in her expensive silk pajamas and her messy bed head.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, closing the door behind them, but staying near it.

"Yeah," she tells him, stretching and getting up out of the bed and crossing the room to lift the top of the silver cover on the plate herself and look at the food he brought up. "Did you eat already?"

"Nothing as exciting as strawberry crepes," he tells her, like he's made them himself or something.

"Bring it over here?" she asks, sounding a little bossy, like she's in character, and moving towards the small table in the suite that's near the window, with the sun letting the natural light in. She can see the rooftop garden just past her window.  
  
He pushes the cart and then waits as she sits down and tilts her head at him. "Have breakfast with me?"

It seems to overwhelm him at first, but then he unbuttons his jacket, and sits in the chair next to her as she pours them both coffee.

"I'm going to try it your way," she tells him, leaving hers black. "Those crepes look amazing."

"They should be," he says, turning to look at her. "I made them."

It makes her smile from ear to ear.

 

###

  
"Skye," she tells him.

He'd been watching her for the last two nights sit alone in the bar, ordering herself a neat whisky. The same drink every night.

Choosing a ridiculously expensive one, and it's good, not that she's really getting to appreciate it.

"No last name?" he asks, with a gummy smile that makes her skin crawl a bit. She's met guys like this before. What people like him consider well-bred. People used to the idea of always getting their way.

His hair and his clothes are all very neat and perfect. Too much, really, she thinks. Not like he's used to them, but like he's playing a role. She wonders for a moment if he's looking at her the same way. If it's what caught his eye.

"I don't give my last name to strangers," she replies, taking another sip of her drink, trying to shed how unsettled she feels now that she's made contact.

"We're not exactly strangers," he tells her, leaning his elbow on the bar while he holds a drink that looks very similar to her own. "You've been here for the last two nights."

"Observant," she nods, pretending to be flattered. "Are you here for the wedding?"

"Wedding?" he asks, his eyes blinking for a moment, before he recovers. "What wedding?"

"Guess not," she tells him, setting her glass down and running her fingertip around the rim.

"Are you a fan of weddings?" he goes on, setting his drink down on the bar now, like he's staying put.

"The bride and I go way back. She was in medical school and I was...hacking my way through life.”

“Sounds personal,” he says with, too much interest. He tries to hide behind his drink. “You’re a hacker?”

She remembers Coulson saying to give them a version of the truth. That it makes this sort of thing easier.

“How else could someone like me end up on Level 8?” she asks him. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff I know. Like that she dated an astronaut, that disappeared under mysterious circumstances?”

“Are you talking about Jemma Simmons?” he asks with a shrug, looking down at her nearly full drink, observantly. “That was all over the media.”

“But not how he disappeared,” she says, picking it up and downing most of the glass. "Or why."

Now he looks really intrigued, his mask finally slipping. “And you know.”

“I’m sure that’s worth something to someone,” she says with a lazy smile.

“And, why are you telling me this?” he says, trying to not look uncomfortable, but ducking his head while checking around the bar to see who might be listening.

“Don’t you want to know?" she leans closer, whispering. "Aren't you here to sabotage this wedding?"

He laughs, but in an empty, colorless way.

"Oh, you're good."

  
###

  
"It's my mother's wedding dress, but I had dozens of alterations made, all with organic and fair-trade fabrics, by local Brooklyn artisans, of course," she tells him, taking it out of the bag. "Isn't it lovely."

She's not really asking, more like telling, so he looks at the dress carefully, like he's trying to actually see how it's different, but then Coulson arrives to rescue him and he makes introductions.

"Mr. Coulson is the property manager, so we'll be working closely with him," Trip says. "The man with a plan."

"It's nice to meet you," Coulson tells her. "I read most of a paper you wrote in a medical journal once, about-"

"Oh, you don't look a day over 50," she interrupts him, looking him up and down and holding out her hand. "You'll have to tell me your secret."

"Antoine told me that you're the bio to Fitz’s tech," he says, dodging her handshake. "We're going to make a happy marriage of both."

"Who has ever had a live, virtual wedding before?" she answers, moving back towards her dress. "Can you imagine this," she says, holding the dress bag in her hands. "And all the time put into it, being worn in front of virtual guests? They could just be sitting at home in their knickers. Oh, Fitz."

"We still have a few details to go over," Trip says, flipping through his tablet. "You wanted to sample the food."

"A touch of pesto aioli," she agrees. "It just means so much to him. Did I tell you I used to make them for him when we were in school together? We were just friends back then. He thinks I'm just so old fashioned."

"I like old fashioned," Trip says. "Technology is just a progression about how to solve basic, fundamental needs."

"You always say the strangest, most wonderful things," she replies, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "Why, if I wasn't engaged myself-"

"I did like that blue rose china pattern," he tells her with a grin.

"It's darling," she tells him, suddenly fidgeting and looking up at the door. "I'm so distracted lately. What was I here for again?"

Coulson and Trip exchange a concerned look as she concentrates and her expression changes, a cool demeanor coming over her face.

“I need to look at our wedding list," she says sharply. "We’re thinking of paring it down.”

“I don’t have it with me," Trip says, caught off guard. "But can send it to you later. " Daisy just needs a little more time.

“Fitz is very concerned with everything being just so. It has to be ready to be changed at a moment’s notice. Life is always evolving and we all have to be ready.”

She shoves the dress bag towards Trip and then stops in front of Coulson. "The food, please."

Coulson gives him another disconcerted look before they walk away together.

  
###

  
"Grant Ward," he says, as the couple approaches him. "I didn't realize reptiles were also on the invite list."

Ward pretends to think it's amusing and tries to stand up taller. "I'm a plus one tonight. But don't worry, Coulson. I'll be out of your hair soon."

"It's too bad your attempt to sabotage this wedding didn't work out the way you planned," he says smugly, crossing his hands in front of him.

"Can't win them all," Ward says, leaning over him, as Daisy holds him back by the arm. "But I did win."

"Skye," Coulson says to Daisy, ignoring him and admiring her. "You're looking lovely. As always." Then he touches her arm before he walks past them, back towards the rooftop garden entrance.

"What are you trying to do, get every bit of security on us?" she asks him, as Ward stares after him, then frowns at her for a moment, then it's gone.

"What's the deal with you and Coulson?" he asks. "You're not working with him, are you?"

"How do you think I got to Level 8?" she jokes, as she takes a couple of glasses of champagne off a passing cocktail tray.

He laughs a little at that, like he thinks she must be kidding. "You know, I don't trust anyone, Skye."

The smile falls off her face as she hands him the glass. "That makes two of us."

"Right now, there are a couple of men in my room. And they're waiting for someone to walk upstairs and try to get at that exploit you wrote for me. They're protecting their investment."

She tries not to shake, thinking of the fact that she sent Coulson to do that very thing while Ward was here distracted with her.

"I don't think I have to go into detail what they'll do to the person who is foolish enough to try me?"

"No," she tells him, downing part of her drink and glancing around, remembering the floorplans in her mind.

"When Trip suddenly found a backup of the wedding list, that was too convenient," he explains. "It was possible, of course. And it didn't matter much to me, since the damage was done."

"What's that?" she asks him flatly, trying to follow after Coulson, as he grabs her by the arm.

"That I sold the contact information on the list. To the highest bidder. Including yours."

She jerks her arm loose as he starts to follow after her, keeping pace, as she tries to move the long skirt of her dress out of her way.

"It's nothing personal," he tells her.

  
###

  
"What, are you, some kind of hitman for the mob?" she seethes at him, as he moves behind her and closes the door to his hotel room.

There are chairs knocked over and the sign of struggle, but it's empty, the laptop is still there. All she can think about is that they have Coulson.

"Actually, yes, I am a mob hitman," he says, taking a gun out from the back of his suit pants. "I was trying to see the bigger picture, not just be one of the foot soldiers."

"It suits you, a white serial killer dressed up like a businessman," she says, making her way towards the window, as he slowly follows after her. "You made my skin crawl from the first day we met."

"Do you have any idea, how hard I've worked?" he goes on, tapping the tip of the pistol against his lapel. "All the things I've had to do? No, of course you don't," he says, waiving the gun at her.

"I bet you’ve forgotten what it feels like to be the one on the receiving end," she says with a shrug and then moves towards him, throwing him off guard.

“I’ve made sure that would never happen. Skye," he says through his teeth, looking her up and down, then settling into disgust.

“Like my mother was?" she tells him, trying to stop shaking, for a moment, remembering why she's here, holding on to her anger like May reminded her to do.

“Your mother? This is about your mother?" he asks, like he's working through a mental file in his head. "Look, I didn’t kill your mother.”

“But you know who did," she says. "You work for the same organization that did.”

He stares down for a moment, a look of supreme offense on his face. "It's just a job. Don’t you want to ask me what they did with Coulson?”

“Ask that question again," she dares him, through clenched teeth.

She holds up her phone and shows it to him, that she’s recording their conversation.

“Oh, honey, you’re not leaving there with that," he tells her in a soothing voice, but with the face of a serial killer.

“Oh yes she is.”

He smirks, in a menacing, unpleasant way, at the sound of the other voice. “Melinda, still holding a grudge.”

“You never did know when to shut up," May says, holding a gun on him from her spot at the door.

She watches May, and waits for her to signal with a nod, as she pockets her phone and runs for the door.

Ward tries to follow, but May is in his way now, and the last thing Daisy sees before she darts into the hotel hall is the look of a fool.

A man who doesn’t know he’s already lost.

  
###

  
Her failsafe was putting the tracker on his phone. She'd made him agree to it before they decided to go forward with her plan. She's done the same.

And right now, she's in his red sportscar, and chasing a mob vehicle down the highway as they near the ocean.

She's already kicked off her shoes and the phone down on the passenger seat, checking in with the signal as the sun starts to go down, and all she can hope is that she's not too late.

Something inside of her, a voice that she had learned to tune out when she was a child, after she went into the orphanage, tells her to hope. She thinks about what it will be like to see him again. About his smile, and his kind eyes, and all of his patience and she prays anyway, even though she stopped believing a long time ago, that he feels it too.

There is a black SUV at the end of the road, before the concrete barrier separates the road from the beach.

She can see the figures in the fading light walking out towards the water.

"Hey," she calls out, after pulling Lola to a screeching halt. "You have about two minutes before I release Grant Ward's confession to having mob ties and selling you information goes on social media."

A shot rings out, clipping Lola and she ducks behind her, out of their sight. "Shield's head of security has the list of all your mob hits, and Grant Ward is in custody. If I were you, I'd let him go and get your cleaners to work on scrubbing your operation.

"You come out and talk," the voice yells back at her. "And we'll give you the guy."

"No deal," she says, angling Lola's side mirrors to be able to see their position. "Send me the guy, and I'll throw you the phone."

There's a pause in the conversation, and so she yells out at them again. "You have less than one minute. I'm timing you."

"Fine. Call it off."

She panics at the thought she might just pull this off, and then stays low and gets into Lola and turns the engine over. Coulson is stumbling his way towards her, looking beat up, but alive, and he pulls the door open and gets in the car.

"The phone!" the guy yells at her. She hauls back and throws the phone to them as it falls into the sand. She can hear them running for it and running towards her.

"Buckle up," she tells Coulson, putting Lola in reverse and driving backwards as fast as she can, and he braces his hand on the dashboard.

Once they're far enough away, she turns the car around. He looks like his lip is split, but he's still manages to smile at her, like he hadn't given up hoping, either.

And something more, as he reaches his hand across the console and holds it open.

Lessening her tight grip on the steering wheel, she remembers to breathe, and can feel the adrenaline start to catch up to her, as her eyes go a bit wide.

She slips her hand into his, and he slides his fingers between hers.

  
###

  
"Well, that's not good," Coulson says, seeing the smoke at the top floor of the hotel.

They watch as Grant Ward is walked past them in handcuffs. "That is," Daisy remarks, as Ward clenches his teeth, but somehow stays quiet for once.

"The VR equipment shorted out and caught fire," May tells them, approaching them as firefighters run past. "Geez, Phil, you look awful."

"Thanks," he smirks at her, as she notices that he and Daisy are standing shoulder to shoulder. "So I guess the wedding sabotaged itself?"

"Trip is up there with the bride right now, the groom is having a meltdown and smashing his own equipment. There's something not right about that girl."

"The guests are all okay?" Coulson asks her, watching another group of people dressed in black tie clothes rush by them.

"They're all fine and accounted for," May says, crossing her arms. "Why don't you take the night off? You might have earned it."

"I take it Ward won't be bothering us anymore?" Daisy asks. "And the flash drive with the data is-"

"Accounted for," May interrupts. "Shield is going to hold onto it for safekeeping, and we'll make sure the authorities get what they need."

"There is information on there, which could help me find out who ordered the hit on my parents," she tells May. "I need access to it."

"I always knew you had another angle," she mentions.

"I was thinking of asking Daisy if she wanted to stay on," Coulson interrupts, looking her over. "We could really use someone with her skillset to help protect our guests, and, she's great for risk management."

"As long as it's legal," May tells them with a roll of her eyes, then uncrossing her arms.

"Thank you," Daisy tells her. "I didn't realize what Ward was. I mean, I figured he was an asshole, but not a super asshole."

"Nothing I couldn't handle," May says with a smile. "Besides, he had it coming. You still have a lot to learn."

They watch her wander over to talk to the fire chief, and Daisy turns to see Coulson still staring at her, silently, like he's memorizing the moment.

"You didn't ask me if I've accepted," she tells him, putting her finger against the tear in his suit lapel.

"I figured you'd let me know when you were ready," he replies, and sighs a little when she places her hand on his tie.

"I will," she says, hooking her finger into the knot. "We should clean you up, and get something to eat. I'm starving."

"Or, we could order room service," he says with a smile.

  
###

  
"I thought it would be fitting," she tells him, balancing the blue rose patterned plate of pesto aioli sandwiches on the edge of the tub. "Since this wedding is what brought us together."

"Mmm," he says, taking a bite as she leans forward to feed it to him, and he sits back against her chest, pressing his back to her, and running his hands along her legs and her arm is wrapped around his chest, her hand on the scar over his heart.

"It really is just a hint," he says, taking a drink from the flute of champagne, then turning over his shoulder and lifting his head to that he can kiss her.

She slides her finger along the edge of his jaw, and makes the kiss far more eager than he had intended, but apparently Coulson is game, because he twists around in the bubble filled water and arches himself against her, lifting her legs again so that they stay wrapped around him.

And even when they stop kissing, she can't take her eyes off his, or stop thinking about more. The way she feels pulsing heat through her body, how they seem to move against each other so naturally.

"Personally, I think your grilled cheese is better," she tells him, tenderly placing the pad of her finger against the split in his lip, and then following it with a gentle kiss.

"Daisy," he sighs her name against her mouth, and draws a line across her cheek with the tip of his nose until his mouth is against the place where her ear and her neck meet.

She's definitely appreciating Coulson's particular touch here. The way he always has seemed to be focused on her needs, it makes it so much easier for her to relax and be able to focus on him, on them.

"Yes," she says with a groan, her eyes closed, just as his teeth make contact with her skin.

He chuckles a little against her neck, dropping his head. "Yes, more, or yes-"

"About the position with Shield management."

"I wasn't exactly trying to persuade you of that at the moment," he tells her.

"I know," she says with a smile, turning her head so she can face him. "But as a partner, though. And, I'm not giving up on the union stuff, either," she warns him.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he says, like he's radiating happiness, reaching back and then handing her a glass and taking one in his hand. "Here's to new partners."

She finishes off the toast with him, and she doesn't even care that it's corny.

She loves it.

In fact, she makes him seal their deal with a kiss. (And a few other particulars.)

  
###

  
Jemma and Trip were married a week after the Fitz-Simmon wedding fell apart. It turned out that Jemma had been part of a programming experiment Fitz had begun in their college years. They lived happily old fashioned ever after.

Ward went to jail and was never heard from again, but rumor has it that he’s referenced in the mob’s risk management documents.

Leopold Fitz had several partnerships fall through, and is under investigation by various Federal agencies. His legal team is looking for bright, less ethical lawyers to join their firm.

May and Andrew got back together, after Andrew survived the mob hit. Andrew is now the official counselor to all Shield Management staff, and May is still known as the hardest ass in the business.

Daisy and Coulson spend their time between hotel management, and touring the country to advocate for unions, while having one of their own. They like to find the longest route between two points, and drive it in Lola.

 


End file.
